


Chill

by Darling_Pretty



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13161855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darling_Pretty/pseuds/Darling_Pretty
Summary: Steve’s plane has been found. Peggy won’t see him.Written for @mrgaretcarter for Steggy Secret Santa 2017





	Chill

She barely keeps her grip on the telephone receiver. “Peggy? Hello? Carter?” Howard’s voice crackles to life in her ear, tinny and loud, each question sounding more and more concerned. “Peg, you still there?”

 

Peggy takes a shaky breath. “Yes, Howard. I’m still here.”

 

“I found him, Peg. I found Steve.”

 

* * *

 

 

She has too much to do to greet the ship. But that doesn’t mean it’s far from her mind. In fact, each and every day, she thinks that she should stop by the facility where Howard tells her Steve is recovering. But she doesn’t.

 

Peggy tells herself it’s because she’s too busy, she’ll stop by the moment she gets a free one. She can’t slack off at work; it would give the men too much to point to as a flaw. There is no room for a woman’s imperfection in the bullpen of the SSR. 

 

A treacherous little voice in the back of her head points out that the reason she’s so busy is because she chooses to be. She works longer hours, more shifts, than anyone else in that office. No one would notice if she were to take a single day. 

 

She chooses not to think about it too hard. Peggy’s not given over to introspection.

 

The weather grows colder, fall turning to winter.Peggy bundles up in scarves and heavy coats and still can’t summon the courage to make it to the facility. Howard still phones weekly with updates. 

 

Steve wakes and—Howard tells her in a voice really more self-righteous than he has any right to—asks after her. She almost sends a cordial note expressing gratitude for his recovery, but that seems even _worse_ than simple silence somehow.

 

Peggy finds herself restless and far more snappish than she’s been. She spends hours in the agency’s gym, pummeling punching bags. And more than once going into work with taped up hands. She’s losing weight too—her cheekbones stand in sharper relief than they usually do—so she avoids looking in the mirror if she can help it.

 

At least the bulkier clothes of winter hide the way she’s growing gaunt. And her snappish demeanor keeps most of the other agents out of her way.

 

It doesn’t do her any favors at the automat.

 

“Alright, English, spill,” Angie says, sliding a piece of chocolate cake in front of her before untying her apron and plunking down in Peggy’s booth.

 

“Don’t you have customers?”

 

“I’m on my fifteen. Let’s go.”

 

“There’s nothing to spill, I’m afraid,” Peggy sniffs imperiously. “Unless you count my coffee, of course.”

 

The stare that Angie gives her could only be described as withering. Generals in the United States Army would be well-served to study her. Peggy does her best to keep her face completely straight, but even she finds herself bowing under the pressure.

 

“You’ve been nothing but a ball of anger for the past month and a half,” Angie informs her. “At first I was thinking you were sour with me, but then you talked the same way to Mr. Fancy. So then I thought, well, maybe it’s just that time of the month-”

 

“ _Angie!_ ”

 

Angie steamrolls right past her objection. “But no, you’ve been downright mean for the past six weeks. So who’s the guy?”

 

The nonsensical connection takes Peggy by enough surprise that she almost laughs. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

 

“You’re not eating, you’re a piece of work almost all the time, you’re running around at all hours of the night. My nonna says anybody acting like that’s in love or out. But it’s one of the two. So spill.”

 

“Angie-”

 

“Don’t you dare, English. Don’t you dare try to tell me different.” She gestures forcefully with the metal fork, suggesting just where Peggy might find that fork if she doesn’t think about her next few words very, very carefully.

 

The stubborn set of the woman’s jaw tells Peggy that if she doesn’t share now, she’ll be paying for it until she does. In a myriad of increasingly torturous and creative ways. Peggy puts nothing past Angie Martinelli.

 

After the fiasco with Howard, Angie knows enough to be caught up on Peggy’s history. But somehow she can’t find the words to explain exactly what has happened. Besides, as far as she knows, Captain America’s triumphant return continues to be a state secret.

 

“It’s just… an old friend of mine’s returned.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

Peggy’s lips purse. “Well, uh, no, not exactly. We never, that is…”

 

She wouldn’t have called Steve her boyfriend at any point in their time together. The word is simultaneously far too much and entirely inadequate, which gives Peggy a slight headache.

 

“Gotchya.” Angie nods knowingly and Peggy’s surprised to realize that she trusts that she does. “So your special friend is back in town and you saw him and it went disastrously.”

 

“Not exactly.”

 

“What do you _mean_ not exactly?”

 

“I haven’t seen him yet. I just know he’s back.”

 

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, English! You don’t get to be this miserable over somebody you haven’t even _seen_ yet!”

 

“It’s not-”

 

Holding up a hand, Angie silences her with a single withering glance. “Oh, no, no, no, honey, don’t even start.” 

 

Peggy sighs, dropping her chin into her hand. 

 

“Yup. That’s lovesickness if I ever saw it.”

 

Peggy groans and rests her head on the table.

 

Her friend pushes the cake further in front of her. “Eat up, English. Put some meat on those bones. Then we’ll deal with the rest.”

 

* * *

 

 

They come up with a plan of attack. Peggy will go to the facility and Steve, fully prepared to grovel. She will be honest but kind, and goose her story with just a hint of the whole national security responsibility thing. It makes her feel better to have a plan.

 

She needn’t have bothered.

 

Peggy’s running late for work and in a thunderously poor mood. Thompson has gotten less directly antagonistic lately, but he’s still looking for any and all reasons he can sneer at her work ethic, the bastard. A delay of ten minutes could very well be a cataclysm in his eyes.She enters the bullpen spoiling for a fight, ready to stand up for herself when Thompson inevitably makes a comment about the time. Instead, she runs into a brick wall.

 

Well, not so much a brick wall as a person with the size and tensile strength of a brick wall. Before she even looks up, Peggy is hit by a dizzying wave of aftershave. It’s not strong, but she _knows_ it and she knows when she looks up, it will be Steve’s face looking back at her.

 

She’s not wrong.

 

His face is more angular than she remembers and he’s grown a slight beard. She’s never liked facial hair and yet somehow it only makes him look more attractive. He’s always beautiful—how many times had she nearly lost herself during a meeting staring at those soft blue eyes and long, dark lashes. And those hands…

 

Peggy shakes herself. _Not_ the time. She takes a step back and that’s when she notices the determined set of his jaw.

 

“Agent Carter,” he greets her and she supposes she deserves the cold formality, but it’s surprising how much it hurts. He’s wearing an ill-fitting suit that somehow manages to be too tight in some places and baggy in others.

 

“Captain Rogers.”

 

There’s an awkward, pregnant pause before he looks around and sighs. “Look, can we talk?”

 

“Aren’t we already?” She can’t help but be slightly antagonistic if he’s going to be so withholding.

 

He looks pained. “Peggy.”

 

She sighs and says, “Follow me,” before leading him into the conference room, shutting the door but leaving the blinds open. No need to encourage gossip. Turning to face Steve, she waits.

 

More silence. Steve paces. He’s nervous, she can tell, but the pacing is a good sign. Steve only goes still if he’s deathly serious. At least, that’s how he used to be.

 

Peggy just waits, watching in silence as he rakes a hand through his hair. After several laps around the room, he stills, looking over at her.

 

“It’s customary to say hello,” she comments.

 

“I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure so is visiting your friends in the hospital.”

 

Peggy raises her eyebrow. “Is that what we are then? Friends?”

 

There’s color high in his cheeks, but to his credit, he pushes on. “If we’re anything else, you’re digging yourself a deeper hole.”

 

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Steve. I did mean to call.”

 

“Call.” His brows furrow, his lips pinch and she knows she’s said the wrong thing again. Jesus, she’s terrible at this.

 

She blinks and says nothing. Another bad move. He sighs heavily.

 

“It was good to see you, Peggy,” he says and walks out the door. 

 

Peggy swears under her breath.

 

* * *

 

 

She goes another two days without incident. Peggy does her Christmas shopping—there isn’t much to do. Bourbon for Howard, schnapps and sheet music for Angie, good chocolates and decent tea for Mr. Jarvis. She walks by a set of beautiful colored pencils and picks them up for no particular reason (at least, that’s what she tells herself).

 

Dropping by the automat to drop off Angie’s gift, she’s met with a most unwelcome sight—Angie, leaning her hip against Peggy’s usual booth, which is occupied by none other than Steve.

 

She stalks over. “Are you stalking me now?”

 

Steve shrugs. “Howard said you eat here a lot.”

 

Angie’s jaw hangs open for a moment. “Maybe I’ll just go get you two some coffee…” she says in a way that makes Peggy certain she’s going to stand by the coffee pot and watch.

 

“You could sit if you want,” Steve offers. He seems less unsettled than the other day. Peggy slides into the booth across from him, hands folded in front of her as she waits for him to speak.

 

But he says nothing, just watches her, staid and quiet.

 

Peggy fidgets under his gaze. He waits.

 

“I wanted to see you,” she admits finally. “I just…”

 

“I got you a Christmas gift,” he says, throwing Peggy off yet again. She hates how off-kilter he’s gotten her. He slides a flat package across to her.

 

It’s a record—Bing Crosby. She tilts her head. When she looks up, Steve has a small, hopeful little smile that sets her heart fluttering in a way it hasn’t in two years. Since he smiled at her last.

 

“I shouldn’t have cornered you at work like that,” he says. “But when you didn’t come, I thought- well, I don’t know what I thought. But I wanted to see you and that was the only way I could think of.”

 

“I could have given you a warmer reception,” admits Peggy.

 

“Look, Peg, I don’t know what’s going on in your life anymore. I tried not to ask Howard too much- didn’t want to pry. I know it’s been awhile and things change. You’ve probably moved on. But I just figured this way you could get your dance. With whoever the right partner is.”

 

He’s so earnest, so beyond anything Peggy’s behavior the past few months deserves. She could cry. Looking down, she bites her bottom lip before speaking. “I wanted to come see you, Steve. Really. But I- at first, I just didn’t want to see you in that bed and then… I was scared, Steve. Made it through a whole war and the thought of seeing you again terrified me.”

 

“Why?” He’s never been one to pull punches.

 

And he deserves honesty. “Because if you didn’t look at me in the same way, it would have crushed me.”

 

Steve reaches out, takes her hand “You’re the only one for me, Peggy. You always have been.”

 

Her heart hammers; there’s a lump in her throat making it nearly impossible to speak. “I’ve missed you, Steve. Every single day.”

 

In a single fluid move, Steve’s pulled her to standing and banded solid arms around her. She wants to step away—they’re in public after all—but she’s never letting him go. Not again.So she buries her face in the side of his neck and sighs. For the longest time, that’s all they do. There’s tension in his body that suggests he’d like more and holding back on her account.

 

Reaching up, Peggy pulls his face down to meet hers, pressing her lips softly to his. “Happy Christmas, Steve,” she murmurs. “Thank you for finding me.”

 

The tips of his ears are bright red and his grin could light New York for the whole of a year. “Merry Christmas, Peggy. Thanks for letting me.”

 

When Angie drops off two pieces of chocolate cake, they’re sitting on the same side of the table. 

 

Peggy discovers that it’s very difficult to eat with a single hand. But Steve’s got a tight grip on her other one and she’s not going to pull away from that. Not ever again.


End file.
